


The Storm

by cinnamon_skull



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blackouts, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Teenagers, Thunder and Lightning, Thunderstorms, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_skull/pseuds/cinnamon_skull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A power outage, a bottle of brandy and a  fear of thunderstorms. What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm

“Okay,” Jean said, lighting another candle and placing it on the coffee table. The match gave his pale skin a honey warm hue that Eren wanted to wrap around himself.

“I think the power’s going to be out for the night,” he continued. For a moment, twin golden flames flickered in the infinity of his pupils. 

When he blew out the match, the moment was broken, and Eren jerked when Jean plopped down next him on the couch. The faint smell of sulfur curled between them as the sky cracked above their heads like the stars were waging a war.

Eren curled around a pillow and watched the flames move and cast shadows against the dining room wall. Jean’s parents were out attending a “fundraiser for rich douchebags or some shit.” Jean had invited him over to play videogames and eat greasy food.

A normal Saturday night with his best friend Jean Kirschtein. Jean, who made him so angry he wanted to paint the wall with his tears. Jean, who set fire to everything in Eren’s life with the sharp edges of his crooked smile.

Except it wasn’t normal. Jean’s parents had called an hour before the power had gone out to say they were staying the night in the city with the weather being as bad as it was and flash flood warnings issued across the state.

“Stay in the house, Jean, don’t get any ideas,” Eren had heard his mother warn through the phone.

“I won’t, Mom,” Jean had said in a placating voice, and then shot a grin in Eren’s direction. “Besides, Eren is here.”

Jean had held the phone away from his ear as his mom gushed over Eren. Of all his friends, Jean always said his mother liked Eren the best. 

“Oh, good, I’m so relieved you won’t be alone, honey,” he heard. “Tell Eren to stay the night, you hear?”

“Okay, Mom!” Jean rolled his eyes. “Hey, the pizza is done, gotta go! Love you, bye!”

Now they were sitting alone in the dark with candles lighting up the entire living room as rain blew against Jean’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I’m so bored,” Jean groaned, throwing his head back. “My phone is about to die, and I forgot to charge my laptop last night. What are we supposed to do now?”

Eren didn’t say anything, just concentrated on pulling the pillow’s soft threads through his fingers and counting the candles around the room.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Jean asked suddenly, his voice floating through the darkness so intimately in the silent house.

“No reason.” Eren tugged a string around his finger and squeezed, until he felt it start to tingle. 

“Eren?” He felt Jean shift so that his knees were pressing along Eren’s thigh. Why were they sitting on the loveseat anyway?

When Jean nudged him in the shoulder, Eren sighed. “I don’t like thunderstorms.” It was more of choke than an answer.

As expected, Jean threw his head back and laughed. It was exhilarating, listening to the rich tones of Jean’s laugh lap around him in waves. Oh, how he wanted to be mad. Anger would be so much more simple to understand.

“You don’t like thunderstorms?” he asked. “Come on, stop fucking around.”

“I’m serious,” Eren hissed, folding into himself even more. Why did he have to like such an insufferable asshole?

“You’ve skydived and done pole-vaulting and jumped off Connie’s roof into the pool,” Jean ticked off his fingers, sounding oddly proud. “You took your dad’s Jag around the block when you were thirteen for Christ’s sake! And you’re afraid of a little boom?” 

Just then, a clap of thunder cracked directly above the house, shaking the walls and charring the air around them. Eren covered his ears and shuddered violently. He continued to shake as wave after wave of thunder struck above their heads.

When the noises faded, Jean leaned in close. Eren could smell him, his usual mix of expensive leather and sandalwood-based cologne, something that made Eren think of amber fields and orchards. It calmed him slightly, because Jean somehow always reminded him of home.

“Eren,” Jean said, sounding serious, placing his hands around Eren’s shoulders. “What do you normally do during storms like this?”

“I usually listen to music or turn the TV up so loud it fades out the storm,” Eren responded, turning to face Jean. “But my phone’s dead—it’s been dead since noon.”

Jean gave Eren a thoughtful look and then smiled slowly. “I have an idea.”

He looked a little bit like Eren’s cat, Cornelius, after he corned a mouse or a bird, and just before he went in for the kill. “What idea?” Eren swallowed.

“I’ll be right back!” Jean grabbed a candle and disappeared into the dark house behind them.

Eren put his face in his hands and groaned, still feeling all the places where Jean’s hands had brushed against him. He tried to tell himself it was just the thunder, making his hands shake, but it was a goddamn lie. 

Eren heard cursing and crashes behind him, and a few moments later Jean appeared again from the darkness.

“What’s that?” he asked warily. 

“My dad’s special brandy,” Jean sung, joining Eren on the couch and popping open the crystal lid. He poured two finger’s worth of booze into sparking tumblers.

“Isn’t he going to notice?” Eren tried to reason. The idea of drinking in the dark alone with Jean was much more terrifying than the the thunder.

“Farlan said his older brother could buy us booze whenever we wanted,” Jean shrugged. “Until then, I’ll just cut it with iced tea and play dumb.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Eren groaned, watching as Jean lifted the tumblers and held one out to him. “This is a very, very bad plan.” 

“This is a great plan, probably one of my best,” Jean smiled his 80-watt smile. “Now, do you want to get drunk and forget about the storm or do you want to sit there and cry all night?” 

“I wasn’t crying,” Eren grumbled, but took a glass from Jean. When he reached for it, their fingers brushed slightly, and Eren could feel the back of his neck heating up.

“Cheers,” Jean said cheekily, taking a sip. 

Eren mirrored his action, and they both ended up coughing. The drink burned his throat the entire way down, the way he imagined Jean’s tawny eyes might feel if he cracked them open and drunk them down. 

“Bleh,” Jean gasped, kicking out his legs in protest and bumping his knee against Eren’s before moving it away. “That is way stronger than I thought.”

There were silent for a moment as they recovered.

“Bet I can finish my glass first,” Jean taunted, licking the rim of his glass.

“You’re on,” Eren answered, snapping his head back and slinging down the rest of his drink. Jean had a way of bringing out his competitive side like no one else, burned throat be damned.

He was the first to slam his glass on the table, but his victory was short-lived. He spent the next several minutes coughing next to Jean, who was doubled over and doing the same thing.

“Man,” Jean muttered, running a hand up his chest. Eren’s eyes followed the movement. “I feel so warm already. You feel that, Eren?”

Eren felt warm, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could blame it on the brandy. This wasn’t the first time they’d gotten drunk—they were seventeen, and they’d figured out a way to handle their liquor between high school bonfires and basement parties.

This was—something else. Jean’s cheeks were warm and the lazy smile he was giving Eren wasn’t entirely friendly.

Before his mind could go down that road, thunder roiled over their heads, followed by bright flashes of lightening. Eren’s senses were quite comfortably dulled, his mind filled with such a warm haze that he forgot to be afraid.

“Hah,” Jean said, nudging him a few times with his knee. “Told you it would work.” He didn’t move his knee back, though, just let it rest against Eren’s. 

“I have another idea,” Jean said warmly. He always smiled more when he drank, and Eren liked the way it smoothed out his rough edges into something much more open and bare. 

“Oh no,” Eren said. 

“You know the best way to get over your fears?” Jean asked, leaning in close again. He stumbled a bit and rested his hand on Eren’s thigh to catch his balance. “You have to face them.”

“Jean, no,” Eren said, feeling Jean’s touch all the way down to his toes. “We’re not going out in the rain.”

“I’m not talking about the thunder,” Jean leaned in closer. “I’m talking about you and me.”

“What about us?” 

Jean looked at him, hooded eyes and pouty lips and flushed skin. How many times had he dreamed of this? Of petting Jean’s skin and pressing those full lips against his own. “What about us?” he repeated, weakly.

“Eren the brave,” Jean muttered, licking his lips. “You reckless idiot. All this waiting and you’re afraid to jump?”

“What are you saying, Jean?” Eren could feel something building in him now, a terrible wanting.

“I’m saying I want you to kiss me,” Jean whispered between them, before moving his lips to hover over Eren’s. “I’ve always wanted it, even before I knew it had a name.”

“Jean,” Eren said, before closing the small distance between their parted lips. It was soft and achingly gentle, and exactly what Eren had wanted all this time. 

They took their time between the crashes of thunder and bursts of lightning to explore each other’s mouths with inquiring tongues and a just a little bit of teeth.

When Jean pushed Eren down into the couch and climbed on top of him, he didn’t think anything could make him more happy or hard. 

The candles burned out while Jean explored the sensitive places of his neck, smiling against his skin when he moaned or dug his fingers into his shirt. 

They spent the night on the couch, kissing and licking and touching, learning the lines of each other’s bodies in the darkness. They gave and received pleasure, pushing and tugging and tonguing as the war waged on over their heads. 

A little storm never hurt anyone, Eren thought, before the edges of his vision turned a blinding white and a force much greater than thunder cracked open his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday gift for the wonderful xenophonspeaks! I think this is the first erejean I've posted on A03. Raises glass - hopefully, this is the beginning of a wonderful, sexy friendship. Long live the hot angry boyfriends.


End file.
